Reasons
by SongoftheDarquePhoenix
Summary: As part of the human race, we must analyze things. It is part of who we are, it is what makes us different from anything else. We strive for a purpose, one that perhaps, does not even exist. It is this concept, reason, that makes us special.


**Reasons**

**By; Song**

_Summary: As part of the human race, we must analyze things. It is part of who we are, it is what makes us different from anything else. We strive for a purpose, one that perhaps, does not even exist. It is this concept, reason, that makes us special._

_And in other news (Disclaimer): This is the first HP Canon story I've written since DH. I hated it. I despised it. Long live AU! I wrote this simply because it wanted to be written. I've killed of my favorite characters before, but I'll be damned if the author does. If I actually did own HP, Severus never would have died, and if he did it would be a heroic, 'Hahaha screw you!' sort of death. Or more tragic. This is my attempt at making something I despise at least a little more likable. Yes I wrote this for me, not the readers and not the reviewers. Me. (Do I sound vain enough yet?) Okay, I'll admit I like reviews, but as I said. I wrote this to keep the only sliver of sanity I have left._

_Warnings: Character death, spoilers for DH. If you can actually call it canon._

_A/U: Quite some time ago, I was brushing my teeth getting ready for bed when the last few lines of this story composed themselves upon me. Being the writer that I am, I could not turn them away. I jotted the words on one of the many notepads that I keep around the house. And here is the finished result. _

_Oh, and parenthesis ( ) are side thoughts._

* * *

As part of the human race, we must analyze things. It is part of who we are, it is what makes us different from anything else. We strive for a purpose, one that perhaps, does not even exist. It is this concept, reason, that makes us special.

Being the analyzing creatures we are, we want to believe that something controls the tempus we call life. You could have three views on this. One can believe that the Fates, or something similar controls the outcome of everything. You could also believe life is a game of chance, a roll of the metaphorical die. Or you can believe that freedom of choice, and choice alone govern this labyrinth.

Severus Snape was one of the last.

He knew this all too well.

Due to a rather 'dunderheaded' choice, in his own words, he had never learned of the simple stuff that made life worth living.

Then again, he was supposed to actually _have_ life. One with a woman, (Lily) a nice house that wasn't too big, two or three children and python.

Instead he had been locked up, alone, in the cold dungeons with his toxic potions and their fumes. His only friends; by his own, idiotic choice.

At least potions couldn't betray him.

Consciously anyway.

During one point in his life, Severus would have scoffed at thoughts like this, but now, was not that point in his life. He was a the worst thing a human could be; a deceiver.

Despite all his failures, Severus had succeeded in a single piece of self redemption.

Potter had received the memories.

He had been so close to getting away from... everything, living a 'normal' life, free from everything, and having a new start. Then some body found him.

That somebody being his 'master'.

But, the Fates have their way of ripping that which is just barely within your grasp, further away from your embrace than ever before.

So, Severus was stuck in the cold dungeons of who knows where (_The Shrieking Shack_), for who knows how long (only a few hours- _right?_), who cares if the war is over or not (_ending?_), alone and dyeing.

In death, night and day blend into one, and there is hardly a difference between wakefulness and unconscious bliss. Time has no relevance. You simply exist.

He had been thinking to long, to hard. Though in all honesty it was probably only a few minuets, sleep, maybe peace was calling. The dark underground tunnels were the last thing he would ever see. But, again, Fate has the way of turning comforts into torments. He was in a place that once (_before__ he met Black_) would have made him 'happy'. Now they just made him want to die. Which he was anyway, yet again due to a stupid choice- so why should he care?

Severus Snape was a thorough believer in choice, and the consequences that later became of it.

Dimly as the damp chambers faded from the corners of his conscious, Severus realized something. Supposed freedom was a lot less free than it seemed.

Severus T. Snape, no matter how good a spy, was human.

The choices of his had past led him here.

And, strangely enough, he was perfectly at peace with that.

_As part of the human race, we must analyze things. It is part of who we are, it is what makes us different from anything else. We strive for a purpose, one that perhaps, does not even exist. It is this concept, reason, that makes us special._

* * *

**Fin**


End file.
